


Told You So

by apostapals (apostapal)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, More Like Well of Terrible Headaches, Well of Sorrows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 11:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4520406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apostapal/pseuds/apostapals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian said that drinking from the Well was Probably Not A Good Idea but Lavellan did it anyway and now pathetically deals with the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Told You So

Dorian looked up from his book to see Inquisitor Lavellan wandering towards him from the stair case, eyes shielded from even the dim light of the library.

“Don’t want to see me today, ah?”

Icarus pulled a face, butts of his hands pressed into his eyes, and let out a groan barley distinguishable as words.

“You were right.”

“Right?” he asked, marking his page as the other man sank to the floor in front of his seat, “Often, yes, but do remind me of what this time.”

“It was a bad idea. They’re too loud.”

Gathering what the elf meant, Dorian crinkled up his nose in annoyance. But, for all his frustration, he couldn’t bring himself not to be soft with the Inquisitor. Icarus was clearly in pain and, for what it was worth, Dorian didn’t wish that upon him. Not when the elf always had the best intentions.

The mage sighed and sank out of his chair to kneel next to Icarus. He took the other man’s wrists in his hands and gently pulled his hands away from his face. Icarus opened his eyes to look at him but Dorian only caught a flash of green before the choice seemed to be decided a mistake–the elf’s eyes screwing shut again.

“Mashing your eyes into your skull is no way to rid yourself of a headache.”

“There’s so much pressure behind them.”

“So adding more does..?”

The elf responded with a noise somewhere between a hiss and a whine and ducked his head forward into Dorian’s shoulder. The mage sighed audibly and reached up to pull lose the tie holding Icarus’ hair back. Every bit of tension removed was, in the end, helpful. He’d add to the relief by working magic-cooled hands into the other man’s hair.

“I’m not much for healing.” he remarked, even as he felt the Inquisitor relax slighting against his body, “But ice can be useful in some situations.”

He’d done this before; once when Icarus twisted his ankle something terrible after a spill in the woods and another for the dull ache of the anchor after a little too much use at Adamant.

“Mm, you’re good at this.” Icarus mumbled, voice half muffled by Dorian’s shoulder.

“I work much better with dead things, unfortunately.” Dorian chuckled.

The two fell into a brief silence after that, the mage working a chill through Icarus’ orange waves of hair. Eventually, the elf moved to loop his arms under Dorian’s, fingers gripping at his shoulders gently.

“And I thought you were clingy when you were feeling well.”

“You love it.”

He did. Though he would never give the Inquisitor the pleasure of admitting it.

Open affection, especially that had no intentions of leading to anything sexual, was new to him. The mage could never bring himself to scorn it, however, no matter how close Icarus got. No matter how ‘unsafe’ the whole idea was back where he was from.

The Inquisitor was so often ‘too close’. Even before their conversations were little more than playful teasing he’d always been so near. So open, welcoming. It had been jarring, at first, but Dorian had become almost too comfortable with it.

“I take it your well voices did this?” he asked quietly.

While he awaited a reply the mage found himself finally giving in to the temptation of nuzzling against the top of the other man’s shoulder. This made it easier to feel Icarus shift to nod. The elf’s fingers plucked nervously at the straps on Dorian’s arms, as if expecting some sort of chastising.

Dorian couldn’t blame him. He wanted to chastise him again. But in the end the only thing that came out was…

“I’m sorry.”

If this had gone well, the Inquisitor would be a gift to all elves. A priceless offering to restore the ways of old. Instead, he seemed doomed to battle to hear voices he could barely grasp at. It was enough to melt even the most hardened frustrations away.

“You were right.” Icarus’ voice shook when he spoke again, “I risked so much and I’m not even–”

“Hush.”

Dorian cupped a cool hand around the back of the other man’s neck. Icarus all but melted under it, body shifting forward and threatening to knock the mage off balance.

“I was right, mind you. But that’s no reason to act like you’re the only fool in the world who’d ever make that choice. Put in your place, offered all the secrets of my people, I can’t say it would be easy to refuse.”

“But–”

“Mm-mn, no. I won’t argue with you. Not while you’re a mess like this.” he said firmly, fingers kneading their way down the muscles of the elf’s neck.

The Inquisitor let out a happy little ‘mmph’ noise. He would have continued further; had they not been in the middle of the library. Quiet or not it did not seem the appropriate place to pull off one’s shirt. Not that it had stopped the little Dalish heathen before.

“You’re wound in knots.”

“I must be close to rigor mortis.”

Dorian laughed. “Well, you’re more in my realm of expertise then.”

“You’re already far into your element.” Icarus replied, cheek pressed against the other man’s chest, “You always make me feel better.”

“If you weren’t such a damned fool, you wouldn’t need me to all the time.” Dorian tutted.

And yet he couldn’t help but charmed by the notion. Damn this man and his ways. The Inquisitor would be the death of him, Dorian had told him as much, but perhaps not in the usual manner.


End file.
